The Thracian king beleeving her, as eager of the pray,
Went with her to a secret place. And as they there did stay,
With flattring and deceytfull toong he thus to her did say:
Make speede I prey thee, Hecuba, and give thy sonne this gold.
I sweare by God it shall bee his, as well that I doo hold
Already, as that thou shalt give. Uppon him speaking so,
And swearing and forswearing too, shee looked sternely tho,
And beeing sore inflaamd with wrath, caught hold uppon him, and
Streyght calling out for succor to the wyves of Troy at hand
Did in the traytors face bestowe her nayles, and scratched out
His eyes, her anger gave her hart and made her strong and stout.
Shee thrust her fingars in as farre as could bee, and did bore
Not now his eyes (for why his eyes were pulled out before)
But bothe the places of the eyes berayd with wicked blood.
The Thracians at theyr Tyrannes harme for anger wexing wood,
Began to scare the Trojane wyves with darts and stones. Anon
Queene Hecub ronning at a stone, with gnarring seazd theron,
And wirryed it beetweene her teeth. And as shee opte her chappe
To speake, in stead of speeche shee barkt. The place of this missehappe
Remayneth still, and of the thing there done beares yit the name.
Long myndfull of her former illes, shee sadly for the same
Went howling in the feeldes of Thrace. Her fortune moved not
Her Trojans only, but the Greekes her foes to ruthe: her lot
Did move even all the Goddes to ruthe: and so effectually,
That Hecub to deserve such end even Juno did denye.
Although the Morning of the selfsame warres had favorer beene:
Shee had no leysure to lament the fortune of the Queene,
Nor on the slaughters and the fall of Ilion for to think.
A household care more neerer home did in her stomacke sink,
For Memnon her beloved sonne, whom dying shee behild
Uppon the feerce Achilles speare amid the Phrygian feeld.
She saw it, and her ruddy hew with which shee woonted was
To dye the breaking of the day, did into palenesse passe:
And all the skye was hid with clowdes. But when his corce was gone
To burningward, shee could not fynd in hart to looke theron:
But with her heare about her eares shee kneeled downe before
The myghtye Jove, and thus gan speake unto him weeping sore:
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